And then he took it away
by awomanking
Summary: "First he gave us his blessing, and then he took it away." That must have been painful for both Paul and Stephanie. Takes place in 2000 because I'm not buying that 'we didn't get together until our on-screen marriage was over' nonsense.


**And then he took it away...**

One Shot

Exiting the production meeting, Stephanie almost broke into a run. Finally, there was a three-hour window of free time. Free time! What was that even? They'd have to be back to the arena at one, but until then, they were free. Well as free as two people who were hiding an affair from just about everyone in the world could be. They had discussed this possible opportunity last night on the phone. Neither he nor she was naive enough to hope for it though. Vince was liable to extend any meeting for extra _hours_ on any day. On Raw days, it was almost a guarantee.

But he had finished talking all things production on an upbeat note, and even joked about going soft. This preceded a comment on how awful some of his employees looked. He asked if they could recall the last time they all slept. So it was confirmed to everyone that Vince McMahon did, in fact, know the stress he caused his employees. If only they knew the toll he was taking on his own daughter's emotional health; maybe then they'd take his indifference to their sleep patterns less personally.

Looking towards Paul, she smirked to see that he was already halfway out of the room. He had avoided making eye contact with her the entire meeting and she had initially taken this to heart, but her nerves relaxed when she saw how antsy he was. Cool, calm, and collected Paul Levesque had bounced his knee and picked at his cuticles the entire time Vince spoke. It made her heart smile. They hadn't been together, well alone together, in six days, and from the looks of it, he was suffering as badly as she was. In that moment, there was no doubt in her mind that that's what plagued him. She moved to follow him, legs picking up speed as a small part in the group opened up.

"Stephanie!"

_Noooo! _This could not be happening. Her mind was already in her hotel room, looking up at the ceiling, and enjoying all the hidden talents the current WWF champion had to offer her.

"Yes," she turned her head towards her father, but didn't break her stride. He was exiting too, and if he could keep up, she would pretend to listen.

"I need a quick word with you."

They had made it to the hallway so she stopped.

"Not out here. Let's talk in my office," with his hand at her elbow, she could do little but walk alongside him with disappointment killing her brief, happy mood. She had been so close.

A short walk and then, "Close the door and sit down."

"Dad, I really need -"

"You need to shut the door and sit down." It wasn't a friendly request the second time and his militant tone irritated her. She went to speak again, but he cut her off.

"I need to talk to you, Steph."

And then it hit her. She watched his hard expression morph into one of concern and her chest tightened.

She didn't move. She stood with her back to the door and watched him sit on the couch instead of his desk.

"Please sit." He patted the spot beside him and avoided her eyes.

"No."

"Stephanie." Sad, brown eyes met her stare and the tightness in her chest multiplied. Sitting, but as far away from him as possible, she prepared for what she knew was coming.

"I spoke to Paul this morning. He's not happy, I'm not happy, and I know you're not gonna be happy, but this has all gotten out of hand. I can't go an hour without people coming to me talking about this. I mean everyone, Stephanie. Even Pat–"

"Dad–"

"I know I said you two could do this. But it's bad, Steph, it's getting really bad. I can't let this–"

A ringing in her ears then. She wondered for a brief, wild second, if this is what soldiers heard after a bomb exploded feet away. She could see her father's mouth moving to form words and the conflicted expressions that crossed his face. She heard nothing but the ringing. And then,

"Stephanie," all at once there was sound.

"What?"

"You're not listening?" He was frowning. She registered his disappointment.

"Of course I'm listening. Me and Paul; we have to stop."

He was confused and wary. She could see that.

"Yes. Do you understand why?"

"Yes. It's bad for business. Bad for me. Bad for your money."

"No, Steph, that's not why I'm saying this."

"It is. It's fine. I knew this would happen." She couldn't feel anything, but in the back of her mind, she knew the anger was coming.

"Stephanie," Vince looked annoyed now. "If it's meant to be, it will. But right now is just not the time. I'm trying to stuff lightening in a bottle. Everyone is jockeying to be in the top five. Paul's got enough to carry with Rock, Austin, Taker. And now Foley. I can't have people questioning his position."

"I heard you the first time," she heard the snap in her voice. The anger was coming faster than she thought. Watching him sigh only fueled the fire.

"You've been discreet, I'll give you that. But people are still talking. They know."

"No one can prove anything."

"But they _know._"

And they did. For all their sneaking around, everyone knew. Or at least suspected. They all highly suspected. "Hunter" and Stephanie shot their scenes and went live with almost no rehearsing. They stood feet apart, always. They had separate rooms in every city and never traveled together. Recently, they barely even spoke in person. Almost every conversation was had over the phone, until they were alone. She was right; no one could prove anything. For all intents and purposes, no one should have been able to say anything about them.

But their affair oozed from him and her like sap from a tree. It was invisible from afar. But then someone got closer and spotted it. And then the overwhelming urge to get closer, to touch and feel it took over. It was so sticky and sweet and messy that there was an instant childlike urge to share it and pass it to the next person. A look or a touch or a too perfectly cut promo was passed from sticky fingers to palms and cycled through the backstage crowd enthusiastically.

The champion was _probably_ banging the boss's daughter. Had there ever been better gossip? Randy Savage and Miss Elizabeth? Whatever. Shawn Michaels and Sunny? Old news. But this; this was extraordinary. This satisfied everyone's need for a pound of flesh. Whether it was for Vince's embarrassment, Hunter's position, or good ole fashioned sexism towards Stephanie, it was a perfect scenario to gossip, snark, and _hate_. And oh Jesus, did everyone hate that they were together. Even though they didn't know it for sure.

Standing from the couch, she felt a childlike urge to run.

"Steph."

"I need some air. I'll be back later."

"Please tell me what you're thinking." Was he Vince or was he dad in this moment? She wondered if even he knew.

"You know what I'm thinking."

"Then tell me you'll stop this." He wanted confirmation that the job was done.

A feeling of disgust took precedence over all other emotions. It manifested on her face and her father physically reeled from it when she looked at him. She watched his hurt expression and felt nothing but self pity.

"You already stopped it. He couldn't even look at me in that meeting. Congratulations. Another Vince McMahon accomplishment in the books. Your mistress is safe and sound."

Her mother had called the business that. Before discovering his actual mistresses.

She knew he wouldn't feel bad for long. With a finger pointed directly at her chest and his eyebrows frowned, Vince stood.

"Now you listen to me. This decision was one of the–"

But she had turned her back on him and left the office. Three pounding strides and the office door slammed shut behind her. A muffled, _Goddamnit_ from inside the room, and she broke into a run. Better to have people see her fleeing than crying. And that was just moments away. The stinging behind her eyes was instant and painful.

Not a thought was spared for her father. Later, the grapevine would carry to her the story of his incoherent temper tantrum. It wasn't anything new. She has seen it many times before. Though it had never been about her. Stephanie had never walked away from her father before. She could hardly recall more than a few adolescent rebellions when she had actually disobeyed him. Her entire life, her ambition had been to please him.

But those days were gone. Her life had changed irrevocably six months ago. She had begun working with Paul Levesque then and shortly after, slept with him. And now she couldn't picture the life she had before him. She couldn't envision a future without him either.

She thought he felt the same.

Stifling sobs the entire way to the hotel, Stephanie wiped the tears from her eyes in vain until she found herself knocking on his door. The ringing returned to her ears for a full minute. He took his time answering.

"Steph."

She felt a sob bubble in her throat, but the defeated look on his face repressed it. When he stepped aside, she entered his room feeling more unsure than ever.

"I'm assuming you talked to your dad."

"What gave that away?" She could feel the heat in her cheeks and knew she looked a mess. The fact that he couldn't meet her eyes, angered her. It was apparent in her tone.

"I'm sorry. I–"

"No," grabbing his gesturing hands, she forced his gaze to align with hers. All self-respect thrown aside, she pleaded to him with a cracked voice.

"You said we'd figure it out. You said he couldn't take me from you."

His eyes watered.

"You promised, Paul. You promised me. "

Tears pouring down her face, Stephanie bit her lip to muffle her cries. Though her vision was blurred, she could make out the disappointment in Paul's face. He averted her stare again and shook his head. When his fingers slipped from hers, she felt her heart break. The pain of it ripped through her chest. She drew a sharp breath that wheezed.

At the sound, his face contorted in agony.

"I didn't think it'd be this hard." His voice was deeper than usual.

"We knew people would hate this."

"Steph," he sounded exasperated. A fresh pierce to her heart. "They don't even know yet and it's already insane. Vince is righ–"

"Vince is an asshole!" He stepped back at her outburst. "He wants me locked in a tower one minute but has no problem selling me on TV every other–"

"That's not why he's doing this."

"No, of course not! He's doing it for his previous _money. _God forbid, anything come between–"

"You know it's more than–"

"Stop defending him!" She was panting in anger and could hardly bare to look at him.

Paul tilted his head back and took a long breath through his nostrils. Looking down at her, with his hands on hips, he looked more like Triple H than ever.

"I didn't think I'd actually have to choose, Stephanie. I didn't think it would actually come down to you or _everything _else. I've worked so hard for this. My family depends on me."

"You won't have to. He's overreacting."

"And if he's not?"

Paul watched her frantically search for an answer. She was losing steam and she looked small, shorter, and fragile. It occurred to him that he had never seen her cry. He would have thought the urge to hold her would be overwhelming. It usually was even when she wasn't crying. But he had been numb since talking to Vince earlier that day. The lump in his throat was the only thing he could feel.

"You said you couldn't do this forever. I can take care of–"

"I am not living off of my girlfriend." It was said with a finality but when she opened her mouth to protest, he added, "and my family is my responsibility."

"Don't be like that. I have–"

"You're 23 years old, Steph. You don't have money. Your father has money."

She recoiled at his tone. Whispering, she answered. "We said we'd make this work."

Two huge tears rolled slowly down each of her cheeks. He watched them fall and went mute.

"Paul, please don't do this."

She took a step closer to him. Just an hour before and she wouldn't have thought twice of reaching up to frame his face. Now, she wearily reached out, afraid he'd flinch away from her touch. He didn't. Paul closed his eyes at the feel of her thumbs rubbing his checks. He imagined her lips on his and quickly opened his eyes to see her painful gaze just inches away from his.

He could kiss her one more time. He knew she wouldn't deny him. Fuck. What was he thinking? He'd have to kiss her plenty of more times. Unless Vince broke them up on TV. He could do that just as easily as he had in real life.

"I'll do anything, Paul. Please don't listen to him. I want you more than anything."

"Steph, we can't."

"We can. Just give me time. I'll figure it out."

Her begging confirmed a theory of Vince's. He'd have to be the one to do it. To break away and end this. It was the right thing to do. It had to be. Despite how terribly wrong it felt and ignoring the feel of bile suddenly rising in his stomach, he grit his teeth and prepared himself.

"Steph-"

"We can figure it out."

A breath. And then his brows frowned. Without breaking eye contact, he said, "I don't want to."

No bump, no match, no injury had been or would ever be as painful as it was for him to see the hurt in her eyes. In that moment, he knew what it was to truly hate himself.

He removed her hands from his face. She immediately wrapped them around her stomach, protecting herself.

"Paul, please."

"No, Steph. We've been kidding ourselves. It was fun and–"

"You wouldn't be saying this if–"

"Maybe not today. But I would have. Eventually." Ignoring her baffled expression, he continued. "We're a lot alike, we love the business. But this wouldn't have lasted, Steph. I enjoyed all of it, but I don't–"

How strange it was to have fought for weeks against the thought and now that he was denying it, he had confirmation. It became a double-edged weapon.

"I don't love you."

A frozen second allowed him to feel his own words wrap around him like a constricting vine. And then the numbness left his body in rapid waves. Stinging behind his eyes and then the tightening of his chest. Her mouth opening with shock and then fresh tears spilling down her face. She took half a step backwards, recoiling from him. She looked like he had just slapped her.

The thought birthed a final, crashing wave of self-loathing.

Stephanie dropped her gaze to his feet. Her jaw opened and closed twice but she was unable to speak. Emotion clouded every sense and she was surprised to see drops of water hit the carpet. Her tears flowed constant and effortless. She felt sick. Energy surged through her. She had leave, to get as far away from him as possible.

He couldn't let her though. She had to say something, anything. Paul didn't think he could live if she didn't. Gently taking hold of her elbow, it was awful to watch her immediately pull from him. It had been like his touch had burned her.

"Steph-"

"Don't. It's fine." But it wasn't and it wouldn't be. Ever. She knew it in her soul.

"I'm sorry I'm hurting you, but it's for the best, Steph."

"Stop saying my name." A hand flew to her mouth, she was embarrassed by how pathetic her voice sounded. She needed to leave the room. Her heart was broken. How could she have let this happen? How could he do this to her? Paul and Vince; the two loves of her life. She couldn't believe the pain. It was unbearable.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Paul repeated the whisper, continuously, to the floor. His own tears streamed down his cheeks but she didn't see them. Stephanie has escaped from the room without a glance back at him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he buried his face in his hands. He was ashamed. Ashamed to be crying. Ashamed to be feeling how he was feeling. Ashamed to have led her on. Ashamed to have put his career on the line. Ashamed to have known all along that a woman, or a girl, really, couldn't and wouldn't ever come before his passion. Ashamed to have slept with his idol's daughter. Ashamed to have cheated on his long-time partner. Ashamed to have thought he smarter, stronger than he actually was. Ashamed to have fucked her and then loved her, and not known when the two converted. He was ashamed of his arrogance. Because he was only 30 but she was practically a baby. And she knew nothing of longing. Her life had no sacrifices. She had gotten everything she had ever wanted. And he should have known better.

He should have known better.

Lifting his face from his hands, he stared out the window absently. His hands rubbed away the wetness between them. Throat clearing, his best attempt to compose himself gave away. It was beautiful outside. The sky was a perfect shade of light blue. The very same color as her eyes. He had never loved someone with blue eyes before.

His tears returned. And so did the shame. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Anything to stop crying. He spared no thought to himself. He simply wondered if the WWF was Vince McMahon's _second _most amazing creation after all. And how he couldn't seem to live without either.


End file.
